Prince Charming

Chapter 7

"Not particularly."

She looked crushed. He didn't know why she'd react like that. She wasn't the one having the baby. Victoria was.

"Why don't you like children?" she demanded to know.

Lucas was having trouble holding onto his patience. His sigh was loud. Then he shook his head at her, motioned her out of his way, and walked past her over to where Victoria was standing. In a gentle tone of voice, he asked her if she were ready to accompany him to the dining room.

He was being extremely solicitous. "There are two dining areas in the hotel," he explained. "The Ladies Ordinary is for families and their guests. The other is for businessmen only. I hear the food is quite good in both rooms. Shall we go?"

Victoria blushed over the attention he was giving her. She took hold of his arm and let him escort her out into the hallway. Taylor followed along after snatching up the room key and making certain Victoria's door was firmly locked.

Supper was a chaotic affair. Taylor didn't eat much of the seven-course meal, for she was too busy watching all the Americans coming and going. The dining room was as busy as a train station, with the swinging door from the salon in constant motion. It was extremely noisy, too. The Americans, she noticed, had a rather peculiar habit of gulping down their food with amazing speed. Taylor felt very much like a country girl at her first fair. She tried to watch everyone at the same time. It was both exciting and wearisome.

Everyone proved to be extremely friendly. Men she didn't even know greeted her warmly and tried to engage her in conversation. Lucas put a stop to that, however, with well-placed glares at the more effervescent strangers. He ran into two acquaintances who engaged him in a long conversation, and astonishing as it seemed to Taylor, she also bumped into a cousin of a cousin from London. She took the interruptions all in stride. Victoria didn't. She paled considerably when a young woman from New York greeted her with the reminder that they had met at the Smithers ball the year before. She wanted to know how long Victoria would be staying in Boston, and before she was given an answer, she insisted they get together soon so that when she returned to London she could call upon Victoria's dear parents and tell them all about her encounter with their daughter.

Victoria was very withdrawn on the way back to her room. Taylor assumed she was simply exhausted and in need of a good night's sleep. Both she and Lucas accompanied her to her door. Taylor hugged her friend good night, and suggested she be ready at eight the following morning so they could have breakfast together.

Lucas was already late for his meeting. Taylor suggested he go on. She could certainly find her way to their room. The doors were numbered, after all. Lucas wouldn't hear of it. He insisted on making certain she was under lock and key before he went anywhere.

They got into a rather spirited debate concerning the issue of safety in hotels. She felt she was well protected by the vigilant staff. He was certain there were evildoers lurking in every shadow just waiting to pounce on an unescorted woman.

The heated discussion ended when he opened the door to their suite. Taylor rushed through the opening and then came to an abrupt stop. She let out a whispered exclamation. "Oh, Mr. Ross, it's quite lovely, isn't it?"

He smiled over the wonder in her voice. He was a little surprised by her reaction, however, for he assumed she'd been raised in surroundings far more elegant than anything Boston had to offer. She should not only be used to luxury, she should expect it.

He couldn't help but comment on her reaction. "I would think you'd take all this for granted by now."

She shook her head. She was too busy looking over the room to turn to him when she answered. "I have learned, Mr. Ross, never to take anything for granted."

Lucas shut the door, then leaned against it and folded his arms across his chest. He knew he was late for his meeting, yet he didn't want to leave Taylor. It was the first time they'd been alone in a long while, and he found he wanted to spend just a few more minutes with her.

He liked looking at her. Her every expression was so genuine. Her reactions were damned refreshing, and even when she was disagreeing with him and making him crazed with her illogical, impractical opinions, a part of him was both pleased and amused by her stubbornness and her innocence.

He liked her enthusiasm. Now that he thought about it, he realized he'd never heard one word of complaint from her since the night he'd taken hold of her hand and escorted her out of the ballroom in London. She'd even been polite and agreeable when she thought they were going to drown during that godawful storm. The only worry he remembered her expressing was for her friend, Victoria.

Lucas let out a sigh. Taylor wasn't at all what he supposed she should be.

She wasn't paying any attention to her husband. She was too occupied exploring her surroundings to notice how closely she was being observed.

She thought the room was every bit as elegant as Versailles and made that remark in another whisper of awe. The carpet was the palest of blue in color and so thick and plush she felt as though she were sinking into it. She wanted to kick off her shoes and walk across the room in her bare feet, but she resisted the urge for it wouldn't have been ladylike.

Directly in front of her was a lounging area. A gold-brocaded sofa, decorated with blue pillows, faced the door, though it was still a good fifteen feet away. She immediately went over to test the sofa and found it was every bit as hard as a rock. She still thought it was quite wonderful. There was a low wooden table in front of the sofa. It had been highly polished. She couldn't resist running her fingers across the top.

"I can feel the shine in this cherry wood," she remarked, though she knew what she'd just said was completely illogical. It made enough sense to her, and she supposed to Lucas as well, for he didn't argue the point with her.

Two pale blue high-backed chairs flanked the ends of the sofa. Taylor felt compelled to test both of them. She then declared they were extremely comfortable.

To her left were two wardrobes, identical in size and design. A door leading to the washroom was at the end of the adjacent wall. To her right was an arched alcove with drapes tied back against the sides. She could see the bed from where she stood. It was a huge thing and without posters. A gold coverlet decorated the bed. There were blue and gold pillows lining the headboard. The sleeping area had obviously been designed for intimacy, and it was, she decided, the most romantic chamber in all the world. With the drapes closed, privacy would be absolute.

Victoria would love it. She deserved such elegance and splendor. Taylor decided that as soon as Lucas left Boston, she would switch rooms with her friend. Taylor knew she would have to remain in Boston at least a week so that she would have sufficient time to purchase the rest of the things she would need in the wilderness. There was also the possibility Victoria would require her assistance in the purchase of a suitable home, and Taylor wasn't about to go anywhere until her friend was settled.

"Do you want me to unlock your luggage or help you unpack?"

Taylor was surprised by the offer. Were American men used to doing women's work?

"Thank you, sir, but no," she answered. "I'm only going to unpack enough for four or five days. How long are you planning to remain in Boston?"

"I'm leaving the day after tomorrow. We're going to have to have a long talk before I go and get some details figured out."

"Yes, of course," she agreed.

He was giving her a curious look. "I thought you were going to stay in the hotel until you found a house to purchase."

She disappeared around the corner without giving him an explanation. Lucas walked over to the arched entrance to the bedroom area and found his wife sitting on the end of the bed.

She was smiling with pleasure. "It's got a wonderful feather, mattress," she told him when he asked why she looked so happy.

He nodded. "Why are you only unpacking enough for four or five nights?"

"It's easier," she replied, deliberately giving him only half an answer. Then she changed the topic. "Aren't you late for your meeting?"

"She won't mind waiting a few more minutes."

She? Taylor's back arched. He was meeting a woman? The smile faded from her face. She had to force herself not to become alarmed. There could be any number of innocent reasons why he would be meeting a woman. Perhaps she was a business associate, and though that would be an oddity, it was still possible. She might have inherited money or a company of some sort from a relative. Yes, that was probably it. Lucas had said it was a meeting, after all. She wasn't going to jump to any sorry conclusions until she'd gained all the facts.

"You have a business matter to discuss with this woman?" she inquired.

"No."

Mr. Ross wasn't one to go into detail. She was forced to prod the information out of him.

"What kind of meeting is it?" she asked. "I am simply curious," she added as a hasty explanation.

"It isn't a meeting exactly," he replied. "We just agreed to meet in the lobby at eight. Why?"

She deliberately shrugged. "Just wondered," she replied as casually as possible. "Will there be others joining you?"

"No."

"And?" she prodded, a bit more sharply than she intended.

She suddenly wanted to kick him. In her mind, the conclusions had narrowed considerably. Yet if he was planning a liaison, why was he telling her about it?

She told herself not to overreact. She shouldn't care who he was seeing or why. She did care though. Immensely. She was suddenly bloody furious with the insensitive brute.

She looked thunderstruck to him. He couldn't imagine what had come over her. One minute she was smiling and the next she was glaring.

He was her target, and so he naturally assumed he'd done something to displease her. She'd been perfectly happy when he first mentioned the meeting, and so he concluded going out wasn't what had her pricked now.

"Is something wrong?"

"No."

The hell it wasn't. He waited another minute or two for her to say something more and when she remained silent, he gave up trying to speculate on the cause of her irritation.

"You're going to be late meeting the woman."

"Her name's Belle."

"Belle." She repeated the name in a whisper. She couldn't think of anything else to add. Her heart felt as though it had just been broken. She was feeling crushed and pitiful. She wanted to weep, and it took all her strength to hide her feelings from him.

She told herself she shouldn't have been surprised. Men strayed. She had first-hand knowledge of that hard truth. Her very own fiance had certainly strayed. While pledging his undying love to her, he was sleeping with her cousin, Jane. Madam had instructed her that it was perfectly all right to love a man as long as she didn't let the love consume her, and as for trust, well, if she really must, then she should spend a considerable number of years weighing all the ramifications before she gave anyone her complete loyalty.

Madam, had also warned her about men's peculiar urges. She'd told Taylor they all had uncontrollable cravings. Uncle Andrew happened in on the conversation and took immediate issue with her point of view. He declared it was warped. He insisted that the majority of men didn't have any trouble at all controlling their lust. It was only a base few who let their animal instincts take control of their actions. A heated argument developed. Madam held firm to her belief that men were ruled by their groins and not their minds, and Uncle Andrew took the opposite view. He told his sister she was thinking like a dried-up old prune, and it was all her own fault because she'd never bothered to remarry after her first husband died.

There was only one point both her relatives would agree upon, and that was the fact that all men sowed wild oats. Unfortunately neither her grandmother nor her uncle would go into detail. Taylor was left to guess what in heaven's name oats had to do with sex.

The majority of men and their behavior didn't concern Taylor now. Lucas's behavior was another matter altogether. They were on their honeymoon, after all, and she thought it was damned rude of him to seek out the company of another woman. Taylor didn't particularly care that their marriage was supposed to be in name only. Mr. Ross shouldn't be meeting other women while he was still legally married to her.

Pride kept her from giving him a piece of her mind.

"Taylor, you need to get some rest. You look exhausted. I'll see you in the morning."

She let out a gasp. "You're staying out all night?"

"No, but you'll be asleep by the time I get back."

"You're going to be that late?"

He shrugged. No telling with Belle, he thought. His mother's old friend liked to talk. And drink, he remembered. Lord, could she drink. The last time they'd gotten together, she drank him under the table. She was proud of the fact that she could outdrink any man, any time. It wasn't an empty boast. Lucas still vividly recalled the godawful hangover he'd suffered through after their last meeting. History wasn't going to repeat itself tonight, however. Lucas had already decided one drink of brandy was going to be his limit.

"Good night, Taylor," he said before he turned to leave.

"Have a good time," she called out.

"I will," he replied.

She didn't want to kick him any longer. That would have been too kind. She wanted to kill him now.

He had almost reached the door when she jumped off the bed and went chasing after him. She said the first thing that popped into her mind. "Aren't you too tired to go out?"

"No," he replied over his shoulder. "Lock the door after me. I've got a key."

He reached for the doorknob. She rushed ahead and wedged herself between the door and her husband, effectively blocking his exit.

"Exactly how long will you be gone?"

"Awhile."

"Oh."

"Oh, what?"

She shrugged. He let her see his exasperation. "What in thunder's wrong with you?" he asked, his bewilderment apparent in both his expression and his tone of voice.

"Nothing," she lied. "Go ahead then. Have a nice evening."

"You'll have to get out of my way first."

She started to do just that, then changed her mind. She'd taken two steps to the side so Lucas could leave, but just as he was reaching for the doorknob again, she rushed back. She threw herself up against the door and splayed her arms wide. She knew she was being dramatic. She couldn't help it.

He was looking at her as though he thought she'd lost her mind. She thought she probably had. She certainly wasn't making any sense. She didn't care. The possibility that her husband might be intimate with another woman made her too ill to think about being sensible.

"Answer one question before you leave."

"What is it?"

"Will you be sowing any oats tonight?"

"What?" He sounded incredulous.

"Wild oats," she explained, being a little more specific. "Will you be sowing any tonight?"

He couldn't believe what she'd just asked him. And then the truth dawned. Taylor was jealous. Lucas was too surprised to say anything. He took a step back and simply stared at her.

She saw the astonishment in his eyes and immediately started blushing like a schoolgirl. His reaction told her he hadn't considered the possibility, and oh,

God, hadn't she just planted the obscene notion in his head?

She let out a loud sigh. She'd gone this far into the murky waters. She might as well go the rest of the distance, or, as Madam was apt to say, finish what she had begun.

"Mr. Ross," she began.

"Are you jealous?" he asked at the very same time.

"No, of course not."

"Could have fooled me," he replied. He did smile then, he couldn't help it.

Her shoulders straightened. Her temper flared. He was, after all, laughing at her.

"Taylor, I'll be happy to explain about Belle."

"I could care less about the woman," she replied. "I don't give a hoot what you do with your time, sir."

It wasn't what she said but how she said it that got him riled up. God, she was stubborn. He decided to let her stew in her own imagination. Come morning, he'd set her straight, but only if she wasn't still sounding like a surly shrew.

"Are you going to get out of my way?"

"Yes."

She didn't move. Lucas decided he was going to have to pick her up, carry her back to the bed, then toss her there with the order to stay put. He reached for her but stopped when she pushed his hands away.

"Marriage is like pregnancy," she announced.

He leaned back. She'd certainly gotten his full attention with that comment. He decided then and there he was never going to be surprised by anything she said to him in the future. Damned if she wasn't the most illogical woman he'd ever encountered. He wanted to laugh but didn't dare. He'd already noticed how sensitive her feelings were. God, she was young.

And inexperienced. And sweet and beautiful and all the things any man in his right mind would want to grab onto and hold close for the rest of his life.

"How is marriage like pregnancy?" he heard himself ask.

"You either are or you aren't," she told him very matter-of-factly.

"Taylor-"

She interrupted him. "There aren't any shades of gray. Until the annulment papers are duly executed, I believe both of us should try to respect our vows. We should be…"

"Faithful?" he supplied when she didn't go on.

"Yes, we should be faithful to one another. It would be the polite thing to do."

She bowed her head so he wouldn't see how much it embarrassed her to discuss such an intimate topic. She noticed then she was gripping her hands together and immediately stopped the telling action.

Lucas stared down at the top of her head. Because she couldn't see his expression, he felt it safe to smile.

"Are you telling me I should be celibate?" he asked.

"I'm going to be," she answered.

"It isn't the same thing at all."

"Why isn't it?"

He didn't have a ready answer. In truth, he only just realized how strange his own statement sounded.

"Women have the same urges," he explained. "But they have to be in love first. Men don't."

This reasoning made perfectly good sense to Lucas. Taylor didn't see it that way. She shook her head. "What you're saying, sir, is that the majority of women have virtue and practice restraint, while the majority of men, yourself included, will rut with anything passing by."

"That about sums it up," he agreed, just to irritate her.

She kept her temper under control. It almost killed her. She absolutely refused to get into an argument with him. She'd already said quite enough. Lucas could either accept or reject her opinions. If he proved to be like all the men Madam had warned her about and have the morals of a goat like his half brother, then Taylor decided she was better off finding out sooner than later. She wasn't vulnerable now, because she wasn't in love with him. She had all the symptoms of a woman smitten by an attraction. She became breathless whenever he stood close to her, had difficulty holding onto a thought for more than a second whenever he stared at her, found herself wishing he would kiss her all the time, and wanted him to think she was just a little bit appealing. Lord, wasn't that proof enough she wasn't immune to his charm and his good looks? Warning bells sounded in her head. No doubt about it, she liked him entirely too much. She was going to have to put an immediate stop to it. This one-sided attraction wasn't just dangerous, it was also hopeless.

And all because the obtuse man would rather be hanged than married.

Belle. She hated both the name and the woman. She decided to give Lucas something to think about on his way down to his liaison.

"Ladies don't have urges, sir, as you so indelicately stated. Only common trollops are afflicted with lustful thoughts." Like Belle, she silently added.

She tried to walk away from him then. Lucas wouldn't let her go anywhere. He planted his hands on either side of her head, effectively trapping her.

He obviously wasn't finished discussing the issue. "Is that so?" he said.

She looked up at him, thinking to tell him, yes, it was so, and then remind him of the lateness in the hour, but the words got lost in the back of her mind. The look of tenderness in his eyes held her full attention. There simply wasn't room for anything else. God, he was beautiful.

He was thinking the very same thing about her. Whenever she gave him her full attention, his throat felt like it was closing up on him. Those eyes. They were magical to him and as clear and blue as the sky over Montana Territory.

Yes, she was lovely all right. But she was also as stubborn as an old mule and as opinionated as an out-of-office politician. The innocent was speaking with authority on topics she knew absolutely nothing about. Like urges.

He couldn't seem to quit staring at her. He knew he should leave. Belle had probably already made her way through one bottle of good whiskey. It didn't matter. He couldn't make himself move away from Taylor. The little woman mesmerized him. He wanted to kiss her, then decided he would do just that. He reached over and cupped her chin in his hand. He nudged her head back a little further. Then he slowly leaned down. His mouth brushed over hers in a gentle caress. He knew he'd startled her because she tried to jerk away. He wouldn't let her. He kissed her again, but this time he lingered over the task.

She let out a little sigh of pleasure and grabbed hold of the front of his jacket. It was all the encouragement he needed. His mouth settled on top of hers in an altogether different sort of kiss. The kind that consumed.

His mouth was hard, hot, wet. Her lips were soft, willing. It wasn't enough for him. He forced her mouth open by applying pressure on her chin with his thumb, and once she'd given in to the silent demand, his tongue swept inside to reclaim the taste of her. He stroked the silky interior of her mouth with blatant ownership. God, she tasted good.

Passion ignited with lightning speed. Taylor wasn't the least bit passive. Her arms closed around his waist. Her fingers dug into his back. She could feel his hot skin underneath his shirt. And his strength. She felt that, too. His muscle was as sleek and hard as steel. The heat radiating from his body and his mouth fairly overwhelmed her. God help her, she never wanted him to stop touching her.

He couldn't get enough of her. The taste of her drove him wild. Her tongue dueled with his, and Lord, there wasn't a damned thing timid about her now. He heard himself groan. He thrust his tongue back inside her mouth. She sucked on it. He pulled her up tight against him. His groin rubbed against her. Her hips instinctively cuddled him.

His mouth slanted over hers again and again. They clung together for what seemed an eternity. The way she stroked him told him she didn't want him to stop. Her mouth was every bit as hot and wet as his was. He liked that. There was lots of tongue. He liked that, too.

He ate at her lips, devoured her scent, and damned if it wasn't the most carnal kiss he'd ever experienced.

She whimpered low in the back of her throat. The sound drove him to the limit of his control. He knew it was time to stop. He was already picturing her naked and thinking how good it was going to feel when he was fully imbedded inside her, with her legs wrapped around him and her breasts rubbing against his chest.

The groan gathering in the back of his throat turned into a growl. Lucas tore his mouth away from hers and tried to regain control over his body. His breathing was harsh, ragged. His forehead was pressed against the door now, his eyes tightly closed, and he had to force himself to let go of her.

Taylor wasn't making it easy for him. She was still stroking him, making him burn for more. He could feel her trembling. He was arrogantly pleased over that notice.

The hell she didn't have urges.

She had never felt so overwhelmed by anything in all her life. She was shaking just like she had on the ship when she thought they were going to drown. Fear had been the reason then. Passion was the culprit this time.

Oh, God, she was a trollop. Her hands immediately dropped to her sides. She stood rigid against him and closed her eyes while she concentrated on getting her breathing to slow down.

He noticed the change that came over her. He wondered what absurdity she was thinking about now.

She wanted him to put his arms around her again and give her another make-me-senseless kiss. Lucas wasn't helping her recover her ladylike facade either, for he leaned down and started to nibble on her earlobe. She shouldn't have liked it, but she did. A warm shiver passed down her spine. His breath, so warm and sweet, tickled her skin. Her knees were once again feeling weak. Lord, she could feel her control slipping away again.

"Whatever are you doing?"

"Kissing you."

Yes, yes, that much was obvious, but why, Taylor wanted to say. She couldn't get the words out. Her sigh of pleasure was all she could manage.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked in a husky whisper.

Of course she wanted him to stop. She'd only just remembered where he was going and who he was meeting. The brute. Kissing her one minute and running off to another woman the next.

"Do you?" he asked again.

She put her arms around his waist. "I don't know," she answered.

The man was driving her to distraction. His mouth was open and hot against the side of her neck. She tilted her head to the side so he'd have better access.

"You smell nice. Like flowers."

Soap, she wanted to say. It was scented. She couldn't get that explanation out of her mouth either.

Mr. Ross was turning her mind into mush.

"Farmers name their cows Belle."

He smiled against her neck. He acted as though he hadn't heard her comment. She felt compelled to repeat it. "I read it in Mrs. Livingston's journal, and since it was published, it has to be true. They definitely name their cows Belle." Think about that while you're wooing your friend.

He kissed her forehead. "You'd like me to keep on kissing you, wouldn't you, Taylor?"

Lord, he was arrogant. And right. She was honest enough to admit the truth. "Yes," she said.

"You know what I think?"

The way he asked the question made her want to sigh again. His voice was deep and husky and how she loved his slow drawl.

"What do you think?" she asked breathlessly.

"You've got a few urges of your own. Do you understand what that means?"

He wanted her to admit that women had the same lustful cravings as men and that he'd been right all along.

"Yes, I understand what it means."

Her shoulders slumped. She pushed away from him and tried to walk away. He grabbed her from behind, wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her still, then leaned down and demanded she explain.

"Tell me what you just learned," he ordered, impatiently waiting for her answer so he could do a fair amount of male gloating.

"I'm a trollop. There, are you happy now? Belle's going to get weary of waiting for you."

"She'll keep on drinking until I get there."

"She sounds delightful."

"She is," he replied. "You aren't a trollop."

She pushed away from him and then turned around to confront him. Her hands settled on her hips. "I'm usually not," she corrected. "But you make me want to do things I normally wouldn't think about doing. When you touch me, I… well, I'm only a trollop around you. I therefore suggest we stay away from each other. Please leave now before I disgrace myself again."

She looked like she wanted to cry. He felt guilty because he'd teased her. He was also feeling inordinately pleased with her. The compliment she'd given him, deliberate or not, made him want to smile. She got rattled when he touched her. A man couldn't ask for more than that.

He felt he should say something to calm her. He was her husband, after all, and it was the least he could do. Husbands should try to soothe their wives when they were upset, shouldn't they? What difference did it make that they were only going to be married for a little while?

"You're my wife. It's all right to be a trollop with me."

She caught herself before she snorted. Her expression showed her vexation, however. "But you'd rather be hanged than married, remember?"

Lord, she was a sight when she was riled up. Her eyes blazed with anger and the look on her face would have made a weak man immediately contrite. He wasn't weak, he reminded himself. "You've got that right," he replied.

She threaded her fingers through her hair in obvious agitation. "Do leave, sir."

He thought that was a fine idea. He walked over to the door, reached for the knob, then stopped. His right hand went to his vest pocket to make certain he had his key, then to the other pocket when the first was empty.

He turned around again and walked over to his wardrobe. Taylor watched his every move. She was trying to get her emotions under control. Honest to heaven, she didn't understand her own mind anymore, she decided. Mr. Ross hadn't done anything to cause her to get this upset. Yet she still wanted to weep.

He found the key in the pocket of the jacket he'd worn earlier in the day. Lucas closed the wardrobe, then turned to look at Taylor.

"Belle fed me when I was a boy… after my mother died. They were close friends."

He wasn't certain why he offered the explanation. He guessed it was because he didn't want her to worry. He also didn't want her to think he was an ogre.

Taylor was fairly overcome with relief. Belle wasn't a cow. She was a friend of the family.

He'd been honest with her, and so she decided it was now her turn. "I was jealous," she blurted out. "You were right about that."

He was pleased by her confession. From the strain he heard in her voice, he knew the admission had been difficult for her. Because she looked so solemn, he didn't smile. He gave her an abrupt nod before he turned away.

She didn't want him to leave on a sour note. Perhaps, she considered, if she engaged him in a pleasant conversation, even if it only lasted a minute or two, his mood would improve. She didn't want her husband to greet his mother's friend with a scowl on his face. Belle might jump to the conclusion Lucas wasn't a happily married man.

Oh, God, she really was losing her mind. It didn't seem to matter much to her at the moment. Lucas was going to leave smiling, even if it killed her. Taylor hunted for a topic to talk about, and just as he was pulling the door open, she settled on one she knew he was sure to like.

"I can't make up my mind if I should petition for an annulment or a divorce."

"You already mentioned getting an annulment," he reminded her.

"I did? I don't remember. I believe a divorce is probably easier to obtain."

"Why?"

"There seem to be more reasons acceptable to the court," she explained. She was pleased he was listening. "I considered most of them, too," she boasted. "I've memorized them all, you see, but I couldn't settle on a specific…"

He smiled. "You memorized the reasons you could give for a divorce?"

She nodded. She was pleased to see his frown was completely gone. "There's desertion, but of course I couldn't use that as a reason. We haven't lived together long enough," she added. She was warming to her topic now. Her voice echoed with enthusiasm when she continued. "Then I thought about drunkenness, and I immediately discarded the reason. I've never seen you take a drink while we've been together. I even thought about charging you with extreme and repeated cruelty, but that would be a complete lie and it didn't sit well with me at all. You have your reputation to consider, and while mine isn't the least important to me, I do have my pride. I would never be married to a man who beat me and I therefore wouldn't like to lie and say I was."

"Men don't waste time on something as foolish as pride the way women do," he remarked.

"Many do," she argued.

"I don't."

Perhaps if he hadn't sounded so arrogant, she would have told him the true reason she was going to give. But that male ego of his was really getting out of hand. It had become a red flag in front of her eyes.

So he didn't have a problem with pride. We'll see about that, she thought to herself.

"You don't like to lie?"

"No, I don't," she replied. "You sound surprised."

"I am. An honest woman," he explained with a grin. "That is a surprise."

She refused to be insulted. "You haven't known many good women, have you, sir?"

He shrugged. "Finish what you started," he ordered. "Don't waste my time with what you might have done. Tell me what reason you'll give for the annulment."

"Yes, of course," she replied. She added what she hoped was a sweet smile and walked over to the door. She gently nudged him on his way, all the while explaining the intricate differences between petitioning the court for an annulment and a divorce. When she was finished, she bid him good night and leaned against the doorway. She watched him walk down the hallway. She wondered how long it would take for his curiosity to get the better of him.

Lucas was halfway down the corridor before he realized she still hadn't told him what reason she was going to use for the annulment. He turned around, walked half the distance back to the door so he wouldn't have to raise his voice, and then said, "If I'm not a drunk or a deserter or a lout who beats his wife, what am I?" he asked her with a good deal of exasperation in his voice.

Taylor sweetened her smile and started to shut the door. In a voice filled with cheerfulness, she told him. "You're impotent."